


Believe

by LunaLovePotter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-26 00:00:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19756426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaLovePotter/pseuds/LunaLovePotter
Summary: After experiencing a bumpy start to her rookie season, Ginny begins to question her future as a professional Quidditch player.





	Believe

Title: Believe  
Author: lunalovepotter  
Pairing: Harry/Ginny  
Rating: Mature  
Word Count: 3755

Following the match – which the Harpies fortunately won, due in no part to her sloppy performance – Ginny begged off the victory celebration at the pub with her teammates. While a small part of her was tempted to get blazing pissed, it would really serve as no more than a panacea to what was going on deep inside. Her insecurities were waging war on her pride, and it didn't take a genius to figure out which side was winning. 

"Hey, Weasley! Come here for a minute, would you?" 

She was just about out the door of the changing rooms when she heard the voice of the team captain, Gwenog Jones, calling her over. Pretending not to hear it crossed Ginny's mind; right now, no amount of motivational talk would penetrate the thick sludge in her head. She was convinced that she stunk, plain and simple. Nothing was going to change that. But this was Gwenog, and it wouldn't help her standing with the team to ignore the captain's request for a private chat. 

Ginny put on the best neutral face she could muster, and followed her captain into the office that adjoined the changing room. She could only imagine what was going through Gwenog's mind as they settled into chairs, with Gwenog behind the desk and Ginny on the opposite side. After all, it had been Gwenog who had pushed for Ginny with the team's owners, who'd been hesitant to sign a new player fresh out of school. The last player they had done that for was Gwenog herself. At least that had been a sound investment, Ginny mused. 

Gwenog clasped her hands on the desk and leaned forward slightly. At five-foot-ten, with broad shoulders and strong, aquiline features, she made for quite an imposing figure both on and off the pitch. Quidditch was her life; she expected only the best from herself, and her players. When her team didn't do well, she took it personally. She reminded Ginny of the female version of Oliver Wood, only more extreme.

"What's wrong?" Gwenog asked, pointedly. 

Ginny hesitated, mulling over what might be the most concise answer to this very loaded question. So she went with the easiest, and most obvious one. "I don't know what I'm doing out there," she said. "I was expecting things to settle down by now, and they just...well, obviously they haven't."

"You did make that spot-on pass to Cheever in the early minutes, which gave us our first goal..." 

Ginny's cheeks colored at the unexpected praise. "Thanks, but still there was the dropped pass from Hopkirk that fell right into Puddlemere's hands, and the Bludger that I should have seen coming from a mile away..." Ginny vaguely brushed her hand along the right side of her ribcage, which still smarted from being grazed by a Bludger that had subsequently tipped the tail of her broom sending her into a tailspin. It had taken her a good thirty seconds to steady herself and by then Puddlemere had scored another goal. She'd spent the rest of the game playing catch-up, never quite regaining her composure. "I let myself get distracted. I feel like a bloody amateur." 

"Well, technically, you are, being a rookie and all that." Gwenog smiled encouragingly, although Ginny swore she could see a glimmer of concern behind her hazel eyes. "We expect rookies to make mistakes in the beginning. It's part of how you learn to play at the professional level. Relax, it's only your fifth match." 

Ginny managed an awkward smile. Her captain was being entirely too generous with her. She shuddered to think how different this meeting might have gone if they hadn't won the match. "Thanks," she offered. "Hopefully the match at Appleby will be better." 

"No, Weasley. It will be better. Think positive." Gwenog reached over the desk to clasp her hand on Ginny's shoulder. "Now, we have tomorrow off so why don't you just go home, get some rest, and clear your head. I'll see you at practice on Monday." 

"Yeah, okay." Ginny nodded, and then took her leave. The moment she was clear of the changing rooms, she felt the tears threatening in the corners of her eyes. Clutching her rucksack to her shoulder, she hurriedly wiped the side of her hand across her eyes and then Apparated home. 

When she arrived at the flat, she kicked off her shoes, tossed her rucksack into the corner and stalked into the bedroom where she promptly threw herself face down on the bed with her feet hanging off the end. Gwenog's voice swam in her head: "It will be better...It will be better..." 

The Appleby match would be her last chance to prove herself, Ginny thought. That was Gwenog's diplomatic way of telling her that if she didn't improve she would be cut from the team. Ginny's chest clenched, and thought she might be sick. She was nothing more than a huge, gigantic failure. Perhaps she really should have tried for a slot in the Healer training program. McGonagall had mentioned she might have a knack for it.

"Oh, bugger it all!" she yelled, her voice muffled by the blankets. Then she rolled over and stared blankly up at the ceiling. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. This was what she wanted to do; it was her dream to be a professional Quidditch player. She couldn't have imagined anything more perfect than soaring through the air on her broomstick, dodging Bludgers and scoring goals while wearing the same colors as her idol, Gwenog Jones. Getting paid to do it was just icing on the cake. The day she'd signed her contract had been one of the best days of her life, the fulfillment of all those dreams she'd had as a little girl when she'd nicked her brothers' broomsticks from the shed when they were away at school to practice. 

But somehow the person she'd been at Hogwarts was not the same person she was with the Harpies. There, she was a shining star. Now she was barely a blip on the radar. The confidence was gone, along with the ability to maneuver a broomstick like it was second nature. She felt awkward, constantly shifting the position of her hands as she flew. She was second-guessing herself, which she'd never done at Hogwarts. Most of all, that sense of freedom she'd always felt whenever she went flying had all but vanished. It seemed as though she was caught in a thick patch of fog and couldn't find her way out. 

She didn't know what to do if she blew the match at Appleby next Saturday. Probably she would resign, to save Gwenog the uncomfortable task of having to sack her. She was pretty sure she'd heard that the Healer program was still accepting applicants, so she might be able to get a late spot. It wasn't really what she wanted to do, but it was starting to look like she wouldn't have much choice in the matter. 

Sighing resignedly, Ginny pushed herself up off the bed and went to the dresser. She found her comfortable sweats and a t-shirt and went to take a shower. She'd taken a shower at the stadium already, but she felt she needed another one. 

She turned on the water, letting it run just hot enough to be tolerable. She pinned up her hair and stripped off her clothes. Then she stepped into the stall and closed her eyes, tilting her head back into the spray. The water pelted her face with quick punches, cascading down her shoulders, over her breasts and belly. She smoothed her hands over her skin to spread the moisture. 

She let her muscles go limp, and simply stood there for a long time consciously willing herself to forget everything that happened that day. She tried to focus on the good things – well, the good thing – that she'd done. Gwenog was right, it had been a great pass she'd thrown to Cheever, and for an instant a smile tugged at her mouth. An inkling of hope washed over her. But just as quickly the smile was gone. She was of no use to the team if all she contributed was the occasional accurate pass. She'd promised them the whole package, and she wasn't delivering. 

All the media hype surrounding her signing also wasn't helping matters, either. Tomorrow's Prophet was sure to provide another brutally honest commentary on her performance from sports writer Paul Ipswich, who seemed to take particular pleasure in breaking down every little mistake she made. He'd been one of the skeptics about her from the beginning, and she hated to be proving him right. Her blunders were starting to overshadow the team's successes in the press, and she couldn't have that. It wasn't fair. 

Ginny pursed her lips, tilted her head forward and opened her eyes. The room had filled with steam. She'd been in the shower so long that her fingers were pruning. Her chest clenched, and she forced back the tears in her eyes. She found herself almost wishing she could get a hold of a batch of Felix Felicis, because she'd need all the luck she could get. It was cheating, of course, and even if she were able to get some of the potion, she wouldn't take it. At least, she was pretty sure she wouldn't...

Shaking her head vigorously, she shut off the water. She stepped out of the shower, dried herself off and dressed, not bothering with any undergarments. When she opened the door to the loo, the aroma of food wafting in from the kitchen assaulted her. She heard the faint sound of music, and intermingling with that was Harry's off-key singing. Pots were clanking. The door to the oven squeaked open and then shut again with a low thud.

Lingering in the doorway, Ginny smiled for a moment, but then she sighed. She knew he'd probably heard all about the match, and was doing this to make her feel better. Somehow in the midst of the rigors of Auror training, Harry had developed a keen interest in cooking, and despite his lack of experience he was quite good at it from the get-go. He didn't have a lot of time or energy to do it, and the fact that he was going through the trouble for her now made Ginny's heart swell. Even though she had all but decided that things were not going to get any better, she would let Harry take care of her because she knew he needed to do it. 

"What's all this?" she said, folding her arms across her chest as she leaned in the kitchen doorway. "It smells delicious." 

Harry looked up, his face brightening at the sight of her. He'd tied an apron around his waist, and his eyeglasses were slightly fogged up from leaning into the oven. "Hey, love," he said with a gorgeous smile. "Thanks. I just felt like working in the kitchen tonight." 

Ginny dislodged herself from the doorway, took his hand and led him away from the stove. She kissed him gently, smoothing his perpetually rumpled black hair off his forehead. "You heard about the match, I take it?" she said quietly. 

Harry's face fell slightly, but then was just as quickly replaced by an earnest expression that never failed to tug at her heart. "Ginny, it really wasn't that bad. You're – " 

"Rubbish," she replied, tears rimming her eyes. "I think that's the word you're looking for." 

Harry's arms encircled her, and she let her head fall on his shoulder. "Absolutely not," he said, with an edge in his voice. "You're brilliant, love. You always have been and you always will be. Nothing will ever change my mind about that." 

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip. She slid her arms up his back, curling her hands around his shoulders, thick and strong now from training. She could feel his muscles through his t-shirt. "I was brilliant at Hogwarts. But it's becoming pretty clear I'm not cut out for the professional league." She sighed. "Gwenog wanted to talk to me today, after the match." 

She felt Harry stiffen against her. "What happened?" 

"Nothing. She tried to tell me it was all part of the process, that rookies are supposed to make mistakes in the beginning..." 

"See, then? I told you, things will get better. You're just working out the kinks, that's all." 

Ginny shook her head and pulled back. "No, things are not going to get better. I bloody stink. I'm going to resign after the match on Saturday." 

"Hang on Ginny, I really think you should take some more time to think about this." 

"It's all I have been thinking about, and the decision's been made. Unless by some miracle I manage to get it together, I'm going to leave the team. It'll save Gwenog the trouble of having to do it herself. I saw it in her eyes, Harry," she persisted, when Harry was about to interrupt. "I saw the way she looked at me. She's not sure, either. She doubts her decision to sign me, but she's too nice to say it directly." 

The frustration was building up inside her, pushing into her throat like a cork on a wine bottle. She moved away from Harry, and redirected his hand when he reached for her again. Turning, she walked into the living room and dropped onto the sofa in front of the fireplace. As she expected, Harry followed her. 

"There's nothing you can say that will change my mind," she said. "I'm going to look into the Healer program, I think there are still a few spots open. McGonagall said I'd be good at it, so I'm going to give it a try." 

Harry sat beside her, putting one hand on top of hers in her lap. "You can't give up," he said. 

Ginny looked into the fire that was blazing in the fireplace. She felt Harry's breath on her neck, and his fingers tightened around her hand. She sighed deeply. "I don't see it as giving up, I see it as facing the inevitable." 

"Ginny – " 

"You're not out on that pitch, Harry. You don't know what it's like to feel like you don't belong there, that everything you thought you knew was absolutely wrong. I don't have that sense of freedom any more. I feel confused and lost. I don't know what to do...I just don't know." Her mind inundated with images of the match, she slumped farther into the cushions. An ache opened in her chest. 

"But you love Quidditch," Harry persisted. 

Ginny nodded. "Of course I do. But I don't have to play to love the game." 

"That's just it. You do have to play. It's in your blood; it's what you're meant to do. You know it, and I know it. Everyone knows it. You won't be happy just watching. You have to be in the thick of things. That's how you are with everything in your life. Think about it: if you'd just sat by and watched, we might not be where we are, right now, together." He squeezed her hand. 

"That's totally different." 

"But it's not different, not at all. This isn't like you, Ginny. Don't do it." Harry moved off the sofa, and sat on the edge of the coffee table so they were facing each other. Still holding her other hand he lifted his free hand to tuck a stray lock of hair over her ear. His fingers traced the curve of her cheekbone, sending waves of tingling warmth down her back. She leaned her cheek into his hand, nuzzling it for a moment as she gazed into his beautiful green eyes. She wanted so much to believe what he said, and to trust in her own abilities, but she just couldn't. 

Ginny turned her eyes back toward the fire, allowing her vision to go blurry. "I'm sorry," she said, to no one in particular. Or maybe it was an apology to everyone; she really didn't know. 

Harry sighed, and stood up, letting his lips brush the top of her head. Then he let go of her hand, and walked away murmuring something about the dinner. The disappointment in his voice sank into the pit of her belly like a stone. He was her strongest supporter; he'd seen her through rigorous tryouts, and had given her full body massages when every muscle ached and she could barely keep her eyes open. He'd taken her out to run drills at dawn, even when he had to report to Auror training. He'd believed in her, and now she'd let him down, too. 

She didn't have much of an appetite, but when Harry called her for dinner she unfolded her legs and went to the table determined at least to not let his culinary efforts go to waste. 

"Want something to drink?" Harry called from the kitchen. 

"Just water, thanks," she answered, putting her hand on the back of her chair to pull it away from the table. It was then that her eyes fell on her plate. Resting right in the middle of it was a long, rectangular velvet box in a shade of forest green. It was the sort of box that necklaces or bracelets might come in. 

Ginny clenched her throat, her fingers tightening around the chair. She didn't move for a long moment, her eyes riveted to the box. Her heart moved into her throat. "Harry..."

"Open it, love." He came up behind her, setting a glass of ice water down by her plate. Then he moved around her to his seat, watching her from across the table as she stared at the box. "Please," he insisted, when she didn't move. 

Ginny pulled out the chair and sat down. She picked up the box, holding it in her hands. She looked up at Harry. "What's this for?" 

"I bought it a few weeks ago. I was going to give it to you at the end of the season, but I think now might be a better time." His voice was soft, almost gravelly, like he sounded when he first woke up in the morning. 

Ginny swallowed hard, fighting back tears. "You know I don't like it when you spend too much..." she trailed off when she saw what was inside the box. Resting on a bed of velvet was a pendant in the shape of a Golden Snitch, attached to a thin gold chain. Embedded in the belly of the Snitch was a sparkling green emerald. Small, delicate wings fanned out on either side of it. Her breath caught. "Oh Harry, you really shouldn't have." 

"Turn it over," he said quietly. 

She turned the pendant over in her hand. On the other side was her jersey number, "7", the same number she wore at Hogwarts. Beneath it, in small but distinct cursive lettering was a single word: "Believe". She looked up, meeting Harry's eyes. "It's beautiful," she said, her voice unsteady. 

In an instant, he was behind her with the necklace in his hands. He clasped the chain at the back of her neck. The pendant rested just below the hollow of her throat. He moved his hands down her neck, sliding them slowly along her shoulders and then down her arms. He clasped his hands on her belly, drawing her back against him. She felt the tickle of his lips on her skin. She let her head fall against his shoulder, and put her hands over his. They swayed slowly from side to side, in time to the ballad that was playing on the wireless.

"Don't worry about what anyone else thinks," Harry murmured. "Just play for yourself. I know it seems like everyone wants something from you, and you want to prove yourself, but you don't have to do that. You have nothing to prove." 

"I have everything to prove, Harry. The Harpies invested a lot in me. Gwenog put her reputation on the line to get me on the team, and I'm not living up to my end of things." 

"Because you're so focused on the money, and the expectations that come with it. You're a fantastic Quidditch player. Don't let all that other stuff get in the way. Just go out there, and play the way everyone knows you can. You have an amazing gift." Harry turned her around, framing her face in his hands. "Just believe in that gift, Ginny. Believe in yourself, and your love of the game. Everything else will fall into place. I promise."

When he said it like that, anything seemed possible. Ginny lifted her left hand to touch the pendant at her throat. She could feel her mind clearing. The mess of her thoughts and concerns about the future untangled and moved away. She draped her arms around Harry's neck, while he clasped his hands in the small of her back. Leaning against him, she felt his burgeoning desire nudging her thigh. The nipples on her unrestrained breasts hardened. 

"I love you," she said, standing on the balls of her feet to capture his mouth with her own. Harry's hands moved around to her front, dipping underneath her t-shirt to cup her bare breasts. A low growl emanated from his throat as he stroked her nipples. The friction sent waves of heat into her groin, causing her to nick his lower lip with her teeth. 

"I love you," he echoed, as his mouth skirted across her cheek to her ear, and then down the column of her throat to kiss the hollow between her collarbones. "And I will always, always believe in you." 

Ginny smiled, letting her head fall back to give him better access. She dragged her nails down his back, trailing along his spine, and curled her hands around his buttocks. "Harry?" 

"Hmm?" he murmured against her skin, his hips jerking a little when her fingers squeezed his flesh.

"Thank you for making dinner..." 

"You're very welcome, love." 

"...but would you mind if we put it off until later? I'm not really that hungry...at least, not for food." 

Harry chuckled. In one swift movement he hoisted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist. "That's what Warming Charms are for, right?" he said. Summoning his wand, he performed a quick spell in the direction of the kitchen, and then he carried her off to the bedroom.


End file.
